


Magic

by TheBlackMagister



Category: Escape the Fate
Genre: Biting, Choking, Counter Sex, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, ITS ALL JUST GAY SEX TBH, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Love Bites, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Rough Sex, Scratching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 10:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5160710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackMagister/pseuds/TheBlackMagister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max is working with Monte; except he knows how much it upsets Craig.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic

Max is an ass.

Craig can't help thinking it. At this point Max has pulled so much shit that it's rarer now to have _good_ thoughts about the man. Still; when Max shows up to a house party uninvited he, albeit reluctantly, allows his ex-bassist in. In truth it's mostly because Max came alone; if he'd brought his new "friend" Craig probably would have slammed the door in his face. Their faces. Whatever. Craig couldn't stand Monte and the fact that Max was affiliated with the guitarist was infuriating.

Instead Max showed up at his door at half-past nine, looking embarrassed and asking to come in, and Craig would be damned if his soft heart didn't do him in: he'd agreed without much pressure. And now they're standing around in his kitchen with beers, awkward and quiet. Craig's not quite sure what to say; he hasn't exactly been kind to Max lately. So instead of trying to make conversation - what would he even say, sorry for attacking you on twitter in a bad mood? - he just sips from his beer and waits for Max to speak first. And it's not long before Max is a little tipsy, at least enough to start a conversation.

"I miss you," Max blurts out, setting his can down and meeting Craig's gaze; and Craig has to look away before he falls for those damning green eyes. "Craig, I-"

"Look," Craig huffs, thumbs away moisture collecting on the side of the can. "Don't you think, maybe.. what we had was just," He pauses, searching for the right word, "You know, an impulse? It didn't mean anything?"

"Do _you_ think that?" Max counters and damnit, Craig isn't drunk enough to deal with this. He slams back the rest of his beer and wipes the remnants off his lips, mulling over his answer.

"I.. don't know." He exhales. "I think - I think we were young and didn't really know  _what_ we were feeling?"

"Well what about now?" Max stumbles forward and moves up into Craig's space so Craig can smell the alcohol on the bassist's breath. "Are we old enough now?"

"Max-" He's cut off by soft lips on his own and god fucking damn it he hates Max so much. Max's lip rings are cold and it makes him break out in goosebumps. Slowly Max's fingers run through his hair, tugging gently, trying to coax him into opening his mouth.

"Max, we - the others - we can't," Craig mumbles, pulls back and inhales and exhales. He can still taste Max, alcohol and something vaguely marshmallow-y. Max whines, hands sliding down to his waist.

"Craig, please," He's begging now and Craig doesn't want to deny him but - people will overhear. That same fucking mouth presses to his neck, seeks out his heartbeat and sucks gently and he turns his head, breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Max.." It's a vague moan, Max is unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it down off his shoulders. Everything around him is moving so fast and he's having a damn hard time catching up. Max nuzzles his collarbones and ruts against him and he  _whimpers_ , arches into Max's body, "Max-" and his moan is louder this time. Fuck.

"Give me another chance," Max's voice is hot against his bare skin, raspy and needy. Craig shudders under his fingertips, lets him kiss down to untattooed skin; his stomach, his hips. Max is half on the floor, keeping him pressed up against the counter and it's taking every shred of will to not break down and beg. Max pops the button on his jeans, licks along the growing bulge in his boxer-briefs and he whines lowly.

"Maxtherearepeopleintherefuck-" He can't breathe. The alcohol is making it hard to be coherent, he can't think straight especially with Max's mouth working wonders on his body. The bassist tugs the clothing down around his ankles and he bites his lip at the warmth enveloping his dick and oh God Max, he's moaning out loud before he realizes it. Max purrs around him and the vibrations make his back arch again and he doesn't even care that he's being loud, that he's openly panting and squirming and anybody could fucking walk in on them he doesn't give two shits.

Max pulls back way too soon and Craig's still panting, face flushed. He feels on edge and he's still not fucking drunk enough to handle this. Max straightens up, shoving him back onto the counter, kissing him and he just - melts. There's nothing else he can do. He wiggles out of his clothes and Max has him up on the countertop and he can't stop shaking, fuck. Max slips one finger into him, no prep or warning and he stiffens, a wordless choking gasp rising in his throat.

"Max," He can hardly talk, "Max G-God damnit-"

"You're so tight," Max whispers against his neck, pushing in a second and scissoring effortlessly. "Such a good boy, Craig.."

"Max I - d-don't - like that - I-"

He's barely coherent anymore. His hips lift, cock twitching, God he can feel every ridge and callus on Max's hands. It's all happening so fast, his head is spinning and he can feel his impending orgasm. Max kisses his neck, breathes sweet nothings hot on his skin and that's it - he stiffens, release bringing a pathetic cry from his lips. His legs are tight around Max's waist and fuck quiet, fuck subtlety, he wants Max inside him _now_. He whines, fingers twisting in Max's brown hair, dragging the bassist into a needy, open-mouthed kiss. Max grunts, popping the button on his own jeans.

"Craig," Max's voice is raspy, "God, Craig.."

"Please," Craig mumbles, his brown eyes hazy. "Please - Max, I - n-need you Max.."

There's no prep, no warning, Max pushes in and Craig arches and cries out. The singer's skin is covered in goosebumps and Max's tongue runs up along his neck and Craig can't stop whimpering with pleasure. Max burns inside him and it feels so good. He registers the cold of the lip rings on his own mouth and opens obediently, letting Max's tongue slip in. His thighs are tight on Max's hips and he's shaking and panting uncontrollably.

"Max," He exhales and Max doesn't let him finish, instead beginning to thrust. He tilts his head back, moans Max's name again shakily. Max feels so  _fucking_ good inside him. Max's teeth meet against his throat, leaving hickeys and bleeding love bites, hands digging into his hips. He rocks down against Max's hips, eyes closed, gasping. The alcohol is intensifying the sensation and he almost wishes he was drunk enough to get off just on this alone. As it is his body jerks with each inward thrust, the empty room amplifying the slap of skin against skin. Max groans lowly against his bruised neck, nails raking his sides, finding his scarred wrists and pinning them to the counter.

"So beautiful," Max pants softly. "Such a good boy for me, baby."

"Harder -  _shit_ -" Craig's back arches and he pulls against Max's hands. He can feel the familiar ache building in the pit of his stomach, he's still so goddamn sensitive after his first orgasm and Max's mouth and fingers aren't helping. "Fuck, Max," His voice is a strangled moan as Max finds his prostate and rams into it, again and again and again until Craig's shaking, crying, begging to cum.

"You look so good," Max breathes in his ear, arms moving down to wrap around his waist, lifting his hips. "Tell me how good it feels, Craig."

"So good - M-Max - I - y-you're so deep inside me I c-can't-" He writhes, head turning from side to side, trying frantically to find relief. "Max please I n-need - need to cum I-"

Max kisses him, tongue rubbing his, and Craig lets out a strangled half-sob into it. He tenses and one hand wraps around the base of his dick, holding back his orgasm, and now is not the fucking time. He needs to cum, damnit, he needs it like he needs oxygen - which Max is also depriving him off, free hand pressing on his throat. Spots are forming in his vision and the room seems to be spinning and he can't breathe he needs to cum - he's vaguely aware of begging Max for release, stiff and gasping for air.

"Please," He chokes and Max mutters "cum" against his ear, hand dragging in one long stroke up his cock to thumb over the slit on the head, and he releases, dribbling cum onto his own stomach and Max's fingers and he's clawing at the countertop helplessly, gasping and choking and sobbing. Max isn't far behind, thrusting in once, twice, three times to reach orgasm, fucking it into Craig's body until they both go still. Craig is crying silently, eyes wide and blank, shaking with ecstasy. Max nuzzles his neck, cooing softly, stroking his hair and his body jerks when the bassist pulls out. Max crawls onto the counter, pulling Craig to his chest as he leans against the wall, and Craig clings to him, face buried in his collarbone.

"You did so good," Max whispers, fingers stroking his spine. "Such a good boy, Craig.."

"I love you," Craig's voice is nothing more than a pathetic whimper at this point. "I love you so much, Max, please.."

"Shh.." Max kisses his temple, his neck, lifts his arms and kisses the scars on his wrists. "I know, baby. I know. I love you too."

Craig sniffles softly. Max's thumbs brush away the tears still streaking the singer's cheeks. "I love you," Craig repeats, swallowing, head so foggy all he can continue with is, "Don't leave me," and Max catches him in a kiss.

"Never."


End file.
